Xavier is currently in his shop, sitting in a re-upholstered swivel chair and shuffling a deck of cards that - well it wasn't a full deck that's for sure. Whistling a tune and otherwise being just slightly on the bored side, he was open for business, but not a lot of people seemed to know he existed yet. At least not unless he was playing Caravan down at the saloon.

The sandstorm did not do Cleopatra McKinsey any favours, and it certainly didn't do any good for her hair. The ponytail she's been wearing it in has gone wild from its time in the dust and the wind, and it's been a source of commentary from everyone from her mother to the grunts in the barracks. There wasn't much point in getting it fixed while the storm was in full force, but now that it's been left as long as it has, it's proved an unexpected frustration to correct. Thus, she's seeking professional assistance.

Her hat is tucked under her arm in one hand as she uses the other to push the door to the salon open. Her eyes scan the shop before settling on Xavier. She flashes a smile. "Hey there," she greets him warmly, before asking with a bit more hesitation: "Are you the, er, hair-dresser-type person here? I don't think I remember you." Of course, considering how long it's been since Cleo's set foot in a stylist's, that's probably to be expected.

Xavier finishes a thorough shuffling of his card deck when the door to his shop opens and he glances up and over to the one walking in. That sand storm had done a number on many people, and he would only be glad when it was over. At the very least he had a few things that was helping him not have to travel too terribly far from his little slice of apocalyptic paradise. At the question, he smiles, and moves to stand. "Why I most certainly am! Xavier Hoyt at your service. Please, have a seat. What can I do for you today miss..." Pausing, of course, so she could offer both her name and an answer to his question.

"McKinsey," Cleo finishes Xavier's question, smiling. "Lieutenant Cleopatra McKinsey, to be precise, but most people call me Cleo." She reaches a hand back to tug the band holding her hair in a ponytail off, then shakes it out. A few bits of sand spill out of her hair when she does. "I, er, was hopin' that you might be able to help fix this? I know it probably seems weird, but it's gone a bit more dire than I'd like. I just want to get a bit more presentable, that's all."

"Well, Miss Cleo, please do allow me..." He says this while watching some sand fall from her hair as she shakes it out. Once she's seated, he actually moves her chair back towards a sink and proceeds to begin washing her hair. "I can certainly try to work as much magic as I can muster. It shouldn't be too horrible a task. How do you normally like to wear your hair?" Figuring maybe the ponytail was simply because of the storm. He didn't have much in the way of washing hair, but he made due with what he could afford occasionally.

Cleo settles into the chair offered and leans back to allow Xavier to do his work. "Well, you can try magic if you think that's what it'll take to have it looking normal again," she says, her eyes turning upward as if to try and get a look at what's being done with her hair - an obviously futile task. "I usually just keep it in a ponytail like I had it, or whatever works at the time, I guess, but if you got a better idea, then I'm all ears. I want to look respectable, mostly." Her eyes flit toward Xavier's face, "You look like you know what you're doin'. How long've you been workin' here?"

Xavier continues to lather soap through her hair, listening as she describes how she usually keeps her hair and what she does to it. A smile then as he begins to rinse the soap from her hair and hums a little. "Respectable I can most certainly do..." Saying this much more before getting her hair completely rinsed through and then gently sits her up and shifts the chair more towards a table with his other tools. Grabbing a brush, he begins to pull such through her hair. "So, what's the latest gossip in the city aside from all this sandstorm hooplah?"

Cleo closes her eyes while her hair is in the water, opening them when Xavier has her sit up in the chair. They squeeze shut again briefly, her face scrunching a bit childishly at first as the brush starts to pull through her hair. After a couple of strokes, she relaxes again. "Aside from the sandstorm hooplah? Mmm, I'm not too sure about that one. Feels like my life's been nothing but sandstorm hooplah for the last week. Manpower's been stretched tight. Storm's been losin' a bunch of shipments. Had a caravan get damn near wiped out north of town the other day while I was out patrolling." She shifts a little in her chair, though she's careful to keep her head in position for Xavier. "I'm guessin' business has been slow in here, huh?"

"Well admittedly I did just open shop. I mean I think someone's been running the tattoo parlor downstairs, but... I figured I would cut the shit from gambling and actually put some of my other talents to good use." He says this much before giving a shrug of his shoulders. "So it's not that it's slow, I took this position and then literally a few days later that stupid storm hit. Kinda hard to show that I've got a business to come into when no one is going anywhere." A chuckle then as he finishes with brushing and hums. "Don't be nervous. I'm going to snip a bit off. Clean up these split ends and such, especially since the sand did a number on your hair."

"Oh, yeah. I just meant with the storm 'n all, I figured people were mostly stayin' inside. I'm sure business'll pick up now, though. I could always try and point some people here, maybe. I know at least a few people who have to do what I say eight hours a day." Cleo smiles encouragingly, though it's hard to make eye contact. One eyebrow creeps upward slightly. "Oh, that's alright. It'll grow back, right?" she says with a soft laugh, then clears her throat. "I mean, I think I can trust you. What do you mean by split ends?" Her question might explain a thing or two about the state of her hair when she arrived in the shop.

There's a chuckle at her question and he gives a certain nod of his head. "Aye. It'll grow back. Split ends happen when hair gets damaged. And it happens to everyone. Sun, wind, rain, all that sort of thing. I read about it in a magazine I found in a trashcan once..." It was near another stylist shop in another town during one of his very infrequent roaming episodes but never the less. Scissors up, he begins to snip at her hair, taking off the split ends and then goes about to give her hair a bit more shape and some light layering while keeping it long enough she could still put it in a ponytail. "But, people might take you more seriously if you show that you take a bit of care in yourself."

"Huh," Cleo remarks of Xavier's explanation about split ends, her face taking on a momentarily pensive cast. "I hope they didn't throw it away 'cause it was wrong," she replies in a tone warm enough to suggest it's more of a joke than a legitimate concern of hers. "I have had a few people not takin' me seriously since the storm hit, so I reckon you're probably right about that. Or maybe takin' me more seriously than they should've." She quirks her lips thoughtfully. "So, you do a whole lotta readin'?"

Xavier smiles, finishing up with the trimming of the hair before taking a brush to it once more. "I doubt it, considering what the world has been through." Saying this much before he steps back and seems to consider something, not that she could truly see this whole ordeal. "Yes, I think this will suit you. You can still put it up, but I'd love to know what you think of it when it's dried and kept down." Saying this much before he sets the brush aside. "Also, yes, I do a bit of reading. A bit of card playing and a bit of hair trimming. I also cook, clean, and eye the ocassional...patron...at the saloon." Giving a smirk then. "Feel better?"

Cleo closes her eyes and draws a slow breath in through her nostrils before exhaling. "Yeah, that feels really nice, actually! I wasn't really sure what to expect. How does it look?" She starts to crane her neck around to look for a reflective surface of some kind to see for herself. "Oh, and come to think of it - guess I should've asked when I came in, but I figured you looked trustworthy - anyhow, how much do I owe you?" She'll start to get up from the chair to go and fetch her caps-purse unless directed otherwise.